Page 208

A FTER THE INCIDENT in the parlour, Maddie moved Hector’s the etiquette lessons to her house to avoid another encounter with the duke.

Unsurprisingly, her mother hadn’t raised any objections.

Maddie had never enjoyed so much freedom.

In fact, she was practising dancing with Hector in her sitting room without her mother or a chaperone hovering around.

It both delighted and concerned her. But then again, the duke’s great wealth was a good reason for her mother to forfeit a need for a chaperone, apparently.

She tried not to think of Hector’s big hand sprawled over her waist or his large body looming over her.

But what she couldn’t ignore was his stare so intensely focused on her face.

He stared at her as if he wanted to memorise every detail, as if she were the centre of his universe.

Never a man had made her feel so beautiful and adored as he did.

“Now the left foot goes back,” she said, mirroring his steps.

He moved with precision and elegance without needing to stop or check his position.

Despite being such a tall, broad man, who hadn’t danced in years, he danced with a natural fluidity she envied.

She bumped against him when she brought forth the wrong foot.

So much for teaching him. But he didn’t flinch.

When she stomped on his foot, she winced.

“Sorry,” they said together before bursting out laughing.

“I’m afraid I’m not a great dancer.” She wished she’d paid more attention to her dance lessons.

“I beg to differ.” He swept her around the sitting room, avoiding the low table, armchairs, and sofa without hesitation.

“I’ve trampled your feet a few times, bumped into you, and led you the wrong way. You should be the teacher.”

“I’ve been rude to you many times, sitting down before you or not addressing you properly.”

She jutted her chin out. “I’ve sketched you, stealing a piece of your soul.”

“I’ve raised my voice and scared you.”

“You gave me hope to be an artist again.”

“You made me believe I can be the man my brother would have been proud of.”

She brushed his hand with her thumb. “I’m sure he was.”

His face brightened. He twirled her around.

She couldn’t contain a laugh. He was an excellent dancing partner, gentle but protective, careful but not oppressive.

He led her through a series of turns that made her head spin.

The only problem was his closeness. He danced too close to her.

It would be the reason for a scandal in a ballroom.

Oh, she wished she were the lady at the centre of that scandal.

“You’re enjoying the dance.” He beamed.

“Very much. You’re a natural-born dancer.”

“Mother insisted I learn, and I loved it. I often danced with her, especially after my father died. My parents met at a ball. Dancing was special to her. She missed my father very much, and I did what I could to cheer her up. Although I now realise, I didn’t do enough.

My obsession with botany came before everything else.

Even her.” The smile disappeared as he stopped dancing.

“You’re being too harsh on yourself. We all have obsessions when young.” She didn’t step away from him, enjoying the comfort of his strong arms.

“I’m ready. I’d like to see her grave.” He frowned. “Something I should have done earlier. Would you come with me?”

“I’d be delighted.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.” He stroked her waist with gentle fingers, and she couldn’t suppress a delightful shiver.

“I want to be with you when you visit her.” Besides, it wasn’t going to be easy for him. “Let’s go.”

During the short trip to Grosvenor Place, Hector remained still. He hadn’t fiddled with his cravat or shuffled his feet. She wondered if the fabric of his shirt or the shoes had stopped bothering him, or if he was too upset to fidget.

“Are you nervous?” She slid her hands in her velvet warmer as a chill sneaked inside the carriage.

“I feel that I disappointed my mother.” He let out a bitter chuckle. “She’s dead, but I can sense her disappointment. It doesn’t make any sense, I guess.”

“Quite the opposite, but I’m sure she would never be disappointed in you.”

“Robert died to rescue me, she’s buried in common ground, and on top of that, I haven’t made amends to you.” He hung his head and twirled the bunch of flowers he’d bought for his mother. “Plenty of reasons to be disappointed.”

“Oh, Hector.” She pulled her hand out of the muff and closed it around his. “You do worry too much. No one could be disappointed in you.”

“Your hand is cold.” He took her hand between his, and, good Lord, began to rub it with gentle fingers.

She hitched a breath. His warmth heated her from her fingertips to her toes as he rubbed her knuckles gently and pressed his thumbs against her palm.

Oh, she grew warmer. No doubt about it. She felt his touch throughout her body as her temperature rose.

The rough spots on the pads of his fingers added a touch of illicit pleasure going straight between her legs.

She wondered how those rough hands would feel on other, more sensitive parts of her body.

He paused. “Am I being rude or inappropriate again?”

“No.” The answer came out quickly. But perhaps she had something to learn from his candid sincerity. He deserved to receive the same honesty. “I enjoy it.”

His whole face brightened with boyish happiness. “I shall do it more often then.” He placed her hand over his chest, right where his heart thumped a steady beat. “You’re my angel, Maddie.”

No one had ever called her an angel before. Besides, she was no angel. But that wasn’t the reason why her face warmed. As usual, he spoke with disarming frankness, something difficult to come by in modern society. His simple compliment struck a chord within her, threatening to reduce her to tears.

When he’d told her she was a great artist with his usual passionate honesty, she’d wanted to weep.

She hadn’t realised how important his spontaneous support was until he’d offered it to her so freely.

Her dream had been buried deep in her soul for years, under layers of cowardice and doubts.

But now she wondered if she could realise it with his help. Not economical help, but emotional.

“Why do you say I’m your angel?” Her voice broke with emotion. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“You did everything. You accepted me even when I was wild.” He kissed her hand, and even through her glove, his passion reached her heart. “Not to mention you found me.”

“It was luck.”

“It was fate.” He kissed her fingers, sending her pulse into a frenzy.

The carriage rolled to a stop, breaking the moment between them.

The happy light brightening his face dimmed the moment he stared at the gloomy wrought-iron gates of the cemetery.

From the outside, the place looked like any other cemetery, but at a closer inspection, it lacked any floral decorations.

There were no wooden benches where one could sit in front of the grave of a loved one, or crypts.

No flowerbeds, mown grass, or neatly arranged trees.

Just plain stones and dirt. Those souls were alone, forgotten and unwanted. The air itself pulsed with despair.

She saw Hector swallow hard before he stepped into the desolate cemetery.

He kept holding her hand as they walked along the gravel path weaving across the cemetery.

The further they advanced, the more he tensed with shadows darkening his expression.

They walked past tombs so old the names had faded into oblivion.

The Duchess of Blackburn’s grave marker was a simple grey stone. No statues of angels or crosses adorned it. Her title wasn’t even stated. All the graves in the communal cemetery were as anonymous as possible with barely the name of the person buried in that spot.

Hector gently placed the flowers on the grave. “She should rest next to Robert and my father. Not here. Alone. In this sad place.”

“Once you’re the Duke of Blackburn, you can move her to your family crypt.” She regretted her words. He didn’t need more pressure about becoming the duke. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to sound commanding.”

The ghost of a smile graced his sculpted lips. “Now you worry too much.”

She helped him remove the grass and cleavers clinging to the stone. With each layer of weeds removed, Hector tensed further.

His features tightened in anger, or perhaps pain, as he crouched next to the grave.

“All these past years, I wanted to leave the island. I cursed it. Cursed my fate. Hated it. But now that I’m here.

..I miss it. I miss the sky at night, the birds’ songs, and the warm sun on my skin, especially now that my mother and brother are dead.

” He tilted his head up. Hot turmoil swirled in the depths of his sapphire gaze.

“Does my wish to be there make me a terrible son and brother? I want to leave this city with its choking air and stupid rules. I wish for silence and the beauty of nature, instead of these dull buildings and the endless, meaningless chatter. People talk too much. Expect too much. And they are cruel to each other.” He shook his head.

“Why do I feel like that? Why am I not happy to have returned? Am I as mad as Quentin says I am?”

“Good Lord, no.” She couldn’t stand the distance between them any longer and crouched next to him.

A knot of emotion grew in her throat at his pain and confusion.

“You aren’t a bad person, Hector. Quite the opposite.

You’re the best gentleman I’ve ever met, and you aren’t mad or savage.

Bad things happened to you. That’s all.”

He lowered his gaze, his eyelashes fanning over his cheek. Was she a bad person for wanting to draw him now?

She stroked his sharp cheek. “You need time to adjust to London, but I agree. People do talk too much and are cruel to each other. You’ve met my mother, after all. I understand your lack of optimism about humans.”

He cracked a smile.

“But there are also good people. Ernest has a temper but is a kind soul. My sister is compassionate, and the sailors on the Empress risked their lives to rescue you. Even Dr. Landon helped you without asking anything. Not everything is rotten.”

“You’re right.” He pulled at another weed.

“But what if it’s not a matter of time? I believe the island permanently changed me.

I can’t be the same man as I was. Everything we do,” he gestured around, “the importance we give to propriety, the clothes, politics. Everything seems so meaningless to me. On the island, I had a reason for doing everything. I woke up knowing I had to catch fish or I wouldn’t eat.

I listened to the wind to understand if a storm was coming.

I watched the flowers grow, wilt, and give fruit.

What is my purpose now?” He sounded so lost that a phantom pain stung her chest.

“Society is complicated. We have rules, but not all of them are useless. With so many people in one place, we must control what people can or can’t do, or we’d be at each other’s throats.

Some rules are meaningless, but you saw those Irish workers.

You felt their pain. You care for them. That’s why you wake up.

You can make London a better place. This is something worth fighting for.

” The rest of what she meant to say was cut off by his embrace.

Hector hugged her. He fully enveloped her in his strong arms and pulled her closer to his chest. Goodness, he smelled divine.

Citrus and soap. And he was so warm she wanted to rest her head on his shoulder and think about the best way to paint the peculiar blue of his eyes, or how she’d draw his body.

She leant against him and didn’t care if it was inappropriate or not, or if someone saw them.

She needed the contact with him, and he sought comfort too.

“Thank you.” His lips brushed against her temple, and she couldn’t suppress a moan. “You truly are my angel. You keep saving me.”

She caressed his cheek. “I think we keep saving each other.”

He kissed her inner wrist. It wasn’t a sensual kiss, though, but a reverent one, like a sinner would kiss a saint. “Would you dance with me? I think my mother would like it.”

She laughed. “Here?”

“What better place?” He rose and offered her his hand.

The moment she took it, he drew her closer and twirled her around. The hem of her skirt lifted the dry leaves on the path. She stumbled and stomped on his feet, but he threw his head back and laughed, a laugh so filled with life that brightened the whole cemetery.

That was why she knew, without a doubt, she was falling for the Savage Duke.